Dragon Age: Emergence
by dinkleberg
Summary: Reboot of the original Emergence story. A first of an AU series. Hawke and his sister survived Lothering's attack, but in a different way. My take on DA:O with Hawke and Bethany accompanying the Warden.
1. Prologue

**Emergence**

**Prologue**

The streets were nearly empty when he arrived—as they should be, for the rain and wind were relentless. He found this slightly convenient, knowing that he would not be able to stand the human traffic of Kirkwallers and merchants alike. His excitement was overwhelming—growing with every step he took. His footfalls seemed to echo as he picked up the pace, breaking into a run as he made his way back home. He had not seen his home in a while and everyone understood why, even though they did not like it. He was a Grey Warden, a sworn defender of the land against the creatures of evil known as darkspawn, and being a Grey Warden meant that you had to forget your life and dedicate a new one to the Order's one and only purpose.

Some say the men and women chosen to be Grey Wardens could have refused the offer, but he had no choice in the matter. He still remembered how it happened—how he was on the way to Highever to visit his best friend with his father when they were attacked by a caravan of the vile things. They had come out of nowhere, like a thief in the night, and overwhelmed him and his father. Despite being skilled fighters, they were outnumbered and he eventually witnessed the darkspawn mauling his father—his hero, his role model—to death, until the older man became nothing more but an unrecognizable mass of bloody flesh and bones.

Rage and fear had struck him at the same time, but he chose to let his rage overpower his urgent desire to run and hide. He had retaliated again, this time alone, and managed to bring down a number of the darkspawn before one of them clawed him in the face, leaving a very deep cut down the side of his left eye. He ignored the injury and continued fighting, but gradually felt his energy drain and his strength diminishing. He had been ready for death, at that very moment—ready to see his father again, ready to feel sorry for leaving the family he had made and loved for months, ready to look after his wife and unborn son from the Fade itself.

He had closed his eyes and braced himself for the pain, but after a few seconds, none came. Instead, he felt the air drop in temperature and a chill was emanating from whatever was standing in front of him. Curiosity seized him and he opened his eyes, finding himself face to face with the frozen band of darkspawn.

"How…?" he whispered, leaning in to check whether the darkspawn was truly frozen to the bone or not.

"Magic, boy," a deep voice said from behind, startling him. He turned around—a little too quickly—and felt himself weaken tremendously. As though his legs had become jelly, he fell—right into the arms of a dark-skinned man. Behind his rescuer stood a robed Qunari—he had only heard so many tales and legends of their race, and found himself in awe of the Qunari's presence—and a red-haired woman. They were all looking at him with the same expression: worry.

"I'm all right," he said weakly, and attempted to stand but was forced back down by the man supporting him.

"No, you're not," the man said, his brown eyes softening, "Now stay still, or you're going to hurt yourself even more."

He did not resist, and felt himself being propped up against a nearby tree. Black spots were beginning to swim around him as his cut began to sting, and he groaned involuntarily. The man turned back to his companions and nodded, saying something that he could not make out. His hearing was dulling, too—he was surely going to die, so what hope did they have of saving him now?

The red-haired woman stepped forward and pulled out a vial of what seemed to be blood—or was it some kind of medicine?—and coaxed him into drinking it. He had thought it was a particularly effective kind of medicine because it tasted like hell—so revolting it was that he did not hear the Qunari speaking before that. As he forced himself to swallow the disgusting medicine, he could not help but think of how much it reeked of darkspawn—as though it had come from the creatures themselves.

Before he could ask, he was plunged into a headache—he felt like his skull was being seized by the claws of a dragon, or being crushed by the bat of an ogre. He started screaming as he saw visions—surely just hallucinations—of the darkspawn, of many more horrors that would surely plague his dreams from then on and then, just when he was about to plead for death, for anyone to stick a dagger in his chest, the hallucinations ceased and his world descended into what seemed like eternal darkness.

When he awoke, the three people that had saved him from the darkspawn answered his urgent questions. What had happened? What was that liquid they fed him? Was he going mad? What was going on?

"You're a Grey Warden now," the Qunari said, offering him a cup of water, "Drink this. After a dozen cups, I'm sure you'll forget the taste of the blood."

"The _blood_?" he repeated, horrified, "You made me drink the blood of that—that demon? And now I'm a—a Grey Warden?"

"Yes," the dark-skinned warrior said, nodding, "You… _do _know who we are, right?"

It only took him a few seconds to lunge towards the tall warrior and punch him in the face, but not before the Qunari caught him in an ethereal prison, suspending him in midair.

"I told you he wouldn't take it well," the Qunari mage said, sighing and shaking his head, "Now we're going to have to erase his memory and—"

"Don't you _dare_!" he roared, struggling against the steel grip of the magic prison, "I have a family to go back to—a wife and—"

"You can't," the warrior shook his head, looking at him with an apologetic expression, "I am sorry, but the Grey Wardens cannot go back to the life they once had—"

"I didn't choose to become a Grey Warden," he growled, glaring at the man, "Now release me. I can't stay here. My father—my father was just _killed_…"

"The most you can do is write to your family and inform them of this tragedy," the mage suggested, crossing his arms over his chest, "And soon—for we must move swiftly. The darkspawn—"

"I can't just… _write_ to them like… like it doesn't matter… like it isn't important enough," he retorted, clenching his fists, "My father was… the greatest man I ever knew. The greatest man Kirkwall ever knew."

"Is he famous?" asked the redhead, walking into view all of a sudden. Her nonchalance and ignorance angered him greatly, but no one could have recognized his father when he was in that state, so he held back on his rising frustration.

"His name was…" he sighed as his gaze fell to the ground, the loss almost too painful to bear, "Logan Warren the Sixth."

"Kirkwall's Champion?" the Qunari looked up, seemingly intrigued. "That means…"

"Yes," he said, nodding, "Now, if you'll release me, I must go to Kirkwall. I must tell them…"

The dark-skinned warrior waved it off. "I'm sorry, but you can't do that. We'll send a courier to the viscount of Kirkwall himself—he will have to be the one who breaks the news to your family. You must stay with us. The darkspawn situation grows more serious—"

"I don't care."

"What?"

He exhaled. "I don't care about the darkspawn."

"Don't you care about what they'll do once they find their archdemon?" the Qunari said forcefully, frowning, "Do you want the darkspawn to kill your family like they killed your father? Well?"

"Avitus," the warrior said, shaking his head, "Don't be so hard on him. He's just a boy."

The words had hit him, then, like a steel knife in his heart. He had thought about his wife, his family and her family, and how they'd suffer if the darkspawn managed to overrun the entire Free Marches. He had thought about his father again—he thought about what his father would have done and realized that Logan Warren would not have left the Grey Wardens for his own family if he were in his son's shoes.

He had no choice.

"You're back," Revka Amell breathed, her brown eyes staring back at his blue ones. He found himself violently pulled out from his memories and into the eyes of the woman he loved—the woman he hadn't seen in months since his acceptance into the Order. She opened the door a little wider and ran down the steps of the Warren estate, not caring that she was exhausted, not caring that she had just given birth to a beautiful baby boy that looked so much like his father—

"My love," he called out to her, and caught her in his arms, "I… what are you doing out here? You're supposed to—the baby, I mean—"

"He's fine," she told him, smiling.

"He?" repeated the Warden, feeling the excitement and happiness grow within him, "It's a boy?"

"Yes," she said, and took his hand, "Come, you'll want to see him—"

"_Revka Amell_!" boomed the loud voice of the second man he had respected next to his own father, Aristide Amell, "What are you doing running off like that? You've just given birth to your own _son _and—" The old man stopped short when he saw his daughter's husband embracing her, and relaxed visibly. He motioned towards the door. "Well, come on. You haven't got all day. Your son is waiting to see his father."

_Your son_. He felt his heart lift as he let Revka pull him up the stone steps and into his old home. He was dizzy with happiness by the time they arrived in their room, where his mother and her parents were waiting for him. Revka's sister was there as well, smiling proudly at the both of them.

"Welcome back," his mother said, approaching him with tears in her eyes, "You're just in time."

"I know," he breathed, smiling. "Let me see."

Aristide was holding the baby. He approached his father-in-law and reached out for his son, and the older Amell smiled briefly, placing the sleeping baby in the Warden's arms. In that moment, the darkspawn were non-existent. There was no threat of an archdemon—no war between Thedas and the evil that came from beneath—just him and his son. He wondered if this was how his father felt when he first carried him, and decided that it had to be.

He was so focused on studying his son's face that Revka had to prod him lightly, to bring him out of his trance. "Well, what are you waiting for?" she said, laughing, "Go on. Name him."

The baby stirred in his arms and he looked back down, only to find his boy staring at him curiously with the same blue eyes that belonged to him. To his father. Pride swelled in his heart and he chuckled. "He looks like… me."

He blinked back the tears that were threatening to escape and smiled even wider. There was no doubt… he knew exactly what to name his legacy.

"Logan," he breathed, "Logan James Warren… the Seventh."


	2. One

**I**

"The darkspawn are growing in number, deep within the Korcari Wilds at the edge of Ostagar. King Cailan sent word to us last night, requesting for reinforcements. This is not a speculation of a growing enemy force—this is an urgent request for help. As First Enchanter and a native of Ferelden, I encourage all of you to step up and volunteer for talents for the good of your land…"

Already, the mages—apprentices and masters of the arcane alike—were murmuring and whispering to each other, perhaps out of excitement and maybe even fear, save for three mages standing in the midst of the commotion. The dark-haired mage, with playful brown eyes, nudged the man beside him and casted him an inquiring look. The slightly taller mage, with a serious demeanor, raised his eyebrows at the absurdity of the unmistakable notion.

"You can't be serious," he said, shaking his head, "There's no way I'm going all the way to Ostagar just to come back after the war is over." And it was true, for he was planning something far more important than—as childish as it seemed—the darkspawn threat in the south. It had been concluded months ago, on a cold winter's night, in the apprentice quarters with Garrett and Bethany Hawke, the only two people he trusted in this suffocating prison, that they had to leave—break free—and return home, to the life that was snatched from them. Going to Ostagar, as noble as it seemed, would only have to wait until their freedom was assured.

Garrett shook his head. "I'm not suggesting we go and fight the darkspawn head on and let them cart us back afterwards," the older Hawke mage said, "I'm thinking that if we volunteer, then we could just break loose and get away halfway to Ostagar—ow!"

"Lower your voice, brother," whispered Bethany, who had punched Garrett's shoulder when she noticed a few senior mages turning to look in their direction suspiciously, "If the senior enchanters catch us discussing this, we're dead!"

"I wasn't _that _loud," Garrett murmured, rubbing his shoulder, "Was I, Logan?"

But Logan wasn't listening. He'd already gone back to focusing on First Enchanter, who was already reading out the list of names of the people he had personally chosen to be sent to Ostagar. Somewhere halfway through the names, Logan had caught his own, along with Garrett and Bethany's. He looked back to his cousins, who didn't seem to notice, and snapped his fingers at them.

"Did you hear that?" Logan breathed, "He called out our names."

"For what?" asked Garrett, scratching his chin, "Are we in trouble?"

"No," Logan shook his head, his expression growing darker, "He chose us to fight the darkspawn at Ostagar."

Minutes later, Logan and the Hawke siblings were ushered up to Irving's office, along with seven other mages. Disgruntled as they were, they knew that refusing would land them in trouble with the templars—any act of defiance would easily be picked up and seen as an act of rebellion, something no mage would want to be accused of, for the consequences were brutal and severe—and went along quietly, trailing behind the seven excited mages in front of them.

"Can you imagine? Darkspawn! The real foul beasts themselves," an ambitious mage, Julian, gushed excitedly to his other fellow mages, "I've only ever read about them in books and heard about them from the more experienced mages."

"So have I," piped another mage, one that Logan recognized as Cato, "I'm more than ready to take them on!" Upon hearing his daring declaration, the rest of the mages made noises of approval and eager agreement, save for Logan and the Hawkes.

"Hey, Amell," Cato said, turning around to face the three silent mages, "You're kinda quiet. Are you scared, or something?"

Logan's blue eyes flickered over to the blonde for a few seconds before he directed his gaze elsewhere. "Yes, I'm positively terrified," he said evenly. He had always resented the prejudice everyone had against mages, but he had soon found after entering the Circle that there was more to hate than the people living on the outside—one of which included men and women who were arrogant and overly-confident about their abilities and showed off frequently. They, Logan decided, would be the ones more prone to turning into abominations than the rest of the mage populace.

"Sure you are," Cato snapped, rolling his eyes, "Well, when I see you on the field, let's have a little competition, shall we? Let's see who kills more darkspawn."

Logan kept his eyes trained on the ground as he walked alongside an annoyed pair of siblings. "Yeah, whatever," he said, waving it off. Cato seemed offended by Logan's indifference, but made no move to show it because the templars and First Enchanter were present and merely turned around and concentrated on his own friends instead.

"What a douchebag," Garrett whispered, to which Logan smiled and shook his head. "I bet he'll be the first to run back when he sees the enemy."

"I'm counting on it," Logan said, smirking, "I give him five seconds."

"I give him two," Bethany added, winking at her older brother and cousin.

Garrett patted his little sister on the head. "I'm proud of you, sis," he said, laughing, "But don't let him hear you say that. I heard blondie likes you." Logan bit his lip as he watched Bethany's expression transform into that of horror.

"Is that true?" she whispered, but Garrett had no time to answer as they entered the grand office of the First Enchanter. Logan had only been in here once—the very first time he set foot into the place that he would soon call his prison—but it was exactly the way he remembered it.

It was well-furnished, with tall bookshelves filled with books most of the mages in the tower have never had a chance to read and Irving's most prized possessions placed neatly in a corner, most of which included impressively crafted staffs and woven robes. His notes lay scattered in a mess on his desk, but Irving made no move to tidy it up. He probably had too much to do to be able to keep track of the neatness in his office, but no one complained. Some even thought it looked professional.

Irving was already addressing them as a unit, but most of them noticed the dark-skinned warrior standing beside the old man and began discussing his identity. Irving noticed their distracted glances and chuckled before gesturing for the man behind him to step forward.

"I'm sure you must all be wondering who this fine warrior is," Irving said, smiling, "May I introduce to you, Duncan of the Grey Wardens!"

"A Grey Warden in our midst?" whispered Garrett, "Things must be getting serious."

"I am honored to be here, First Enchanter, but I'm afraid we have to cut to the chase," Duncan said apologetically. Irving laughed and shook his head, and motioned for Duncan to carry on, to which the Grey Warden smiled appreciatively. He turned to the ten mages that now stood before him, and nodded, as though satisfied, and continued with his briefing. "As you all have probably heard, the darkspawn are returning in larger numbers on the edge of Ostagar. We don't know how it happened, but we suspect an archdemon must be leading them, which explains their discipline in holding back on their attacks from time to time. I am here on behalf of King Cailan to recruit you to be a part of the army and will explain the battle plans to you at a later date."

"Do we have a choice for this?" a female mage asked, voicing Logan's thoughts.

Duncan looked surprised. "I was on the impression that everyone wanted to be here," he said, "But I suppose, in all fairness, I will let you have the choice of accepting or declining. For those of you who wish you back out, please leave the office."

Logan had the sudden urge to walk out the door, but he saw that Garrett and Bethany made no move to leave and reluctantly stayed put. Only one mage, the woman that had spoken, had left the office, leaving Duncan with only nine mages left under his wing. He sighed and went on, briefing them about the situation in Ostagar. Logan clenched his fists and tried his best to pay attention, but found that he was distracted with thoughts of what Garrett had mentioned earlier—escaping halfway and going home. He knew he wouldn't have any other chance after this, because even he couldn't predict how long this battle will continue, especially with the presence of an archdemon, and made a mental note to discuss the idea of escape with Garrett and Bethany afterwards.

"Recruiting Grey Wardens? That's an honor!" Cato's exclamation jerked Logan out of his thoughts, and he realized that he hadn't been listening at all. He turned to Garrett, who had a curious expression on his face.

"What was he saying again?" Logan asked quietly, making sure Duncan didn't notice.

Garrett shrugged. "He said he wanted some of us to join the Grey Wardens," he replied, "Something like that. It's all rather boring."

"I do believe you can find other potential recruits amongst our other apprentices," Irving cut in suddenly, looking at Duncan meaningfully, "These are my best students—I would sooner see them become senior enchanters themselves than leave the Circle. You understand, don't you, Duncan?"

The Grey Warden smiled. "Of course, First Enchanter," he said, nodding, although Logan suspected that his desire to see some of Irving's "best students" become Grey Wardens was far from extinguished.

"Well, now, we will gather all nine of you again in the morning," Irving said, clapping his hands together, "Go and get a good night's rest. You will all need it. This is a field test of your abilities—abilities that you have honed and practiced for years in this tower. Go out there and do us proud, my children."

Logan was about to leave when he caught Duncan's eyes trained on him. It didn't unnerve him, but he didn't like the quiet attention that he was getting. He guessed that Duncan was considering him to join the Grey Wardens, but he'd already made a decision to break away from anything that was related to the Circle—even if it meant becoming an outlaw and apostate. He could not afford to waste his time and exchange his current life for another of eternal bondage, because what different would that be, really?

"Come on," Garrett said, placing his hand on Logan's shoulder, "We've got some talking to do."

* * *

><p>"That boy in the back," Duncan said, sitting down next to the First Enchanter once everyone was gone, "The one with brown hair and blue eyes—what was his name again?"<p>

"Logan," Irving replied, handing Duncan a cup of hot tea, "Logan James Amell. I've never met a finer apprentice mage than he. He has a bright future here—if only he will accept it willingly."

"Accept it willingly?" repeated Duncan, casting the First Enchanter a curious look, "He is… a stubborn man, then?"

Irving chuckled. "He is respectful of his elders, if that's what you're wondering," Irving said, stroking his beard, "He is just a man, like many before him, that does not condone the actions of the templar order and the Circle of Magi. I can see that he doesn't like how mages are eternally—for lack of a better word—chained to this place they must call their home. He is young, but I believe he will soon see that he will prosper here."

"A man with strong beliefs," Duncan said, setting down his cup of tea, "Very much like his father."

"His father?" Irving turned to the Grey Warden. "What do you know of his father? Logan has never spoken much about him to me… although I daresay he would've shared quite a bit with his cousins, the Hawke siblings."

"He doesn't know who his father is," the Warden replied, shaking his head, the sadness in his voice evident, "But I knew his father. His father was my comrade. Logan looks very much like him. I knew he was his son from the moment I laid my eyes on him."

"What a coincidence," Irving said, smiling, "Are you planning to tell the boy of his parentage, then?"

Duncan shook his head. "I cannot," he said simply.

"Why not?" asked the First Enchanter, "Surely he has the right to know."

"He does, but I'm afraid I'm not in a suitable position to tell him," Duncan said grimly, "His father has… personally requested that he must be the one to tell his son, no matter the circumstance. I must respect the First Warden's wish."

"The First Warden?" repeated Irving, surprised at this revelation, "Logan's father… well, I can't say I know very much about this enigmatic leader of your order, but I have heard whispers of his greatness. His wisdom and bravery."

Duncan chuckled. "He was not always like that," the Warden admitted with a half-smile, "He was once stubborn and foolish, as I was."

"How intriguing," Irving admitted, his childlike curiosity getting the better of him, "I'll have you know, Duncan, that I am bursting to know much more about Logan's father. But, alas, I am in no position to pry into such matters. However, if you will indulge me in the morning…"

The dark-skinned warrior let out a laugh. "I'll consider it, First Enchanter," he said, standing up, "And thank you for the tea. I will see myself to my quarters."

"Very well," said an amused First Enchanter, "Goodnight, Grey Warden."

* * *

><p>"Are you <em>insane<em>?" Logan hissed, the moment he had shut the door behind them. "We can't just… walk out of a caravan of mages and expect them not to notice!" As tempting as Garrett's suggestion had sounded, Logan wasn't about to risk their lives by abandoning their to-be comrades and, eventually, their homeland in the fight against the darkspawn. He had never wanted to volunteer in the first place, but Irving—First Enchanter Irving, the leader of the Circle of Magi, who had so graciously and openly displayed his affection for Logan and the Hawke siblings—had dragged them into a much more complicated situation than before.

Garrett sat down next to a visibly troubled Logan. "Well, you can't deny that this is an excellent opportunity to get ourselves exiled while we're out of this tower," he said with a mischievous grin, "Think of the possibilities of this…"

"It's a crazy idea," Logan said, shaking his head, "And if we get caught for this, we're _dead_. They'll either kill us or turn us into one of the Tranquils."

"Now I'm getting goosebumps," Garrett said, shuddering slightly, "It won't happen—trust me on this. We just need to find one night where everyone's asleep and—" He snapped his fingers, smirking, "—we'll be on our merry way."

"Except they still have our phylacteries," Bethany pointed out. Logan gave her a thankful smile, grateful that there were still some brains within the Hawke bloodline after all. Garrett looked slightly peeved that his sister had rained on his parade, but had to admit that the issue of their phylacteries, the very key to their whereabouts, was still a large obstacle in the way of their freedom and something he hadn't bothered to think about.

"So what do we do now, Hawke?" Logan asked, smirking, "I don't suppose we could go to Denerim within a day and destroy our phylacteries and escape unscathed… could we?"

"That sounds absolutely _brilliant_, Amell," Garrett growled, tapping his fingers impatiently on the dresser. He shook his head and let out a sigh of frustration. "All right, fine. We're stranded. What now?"

Before anyone could reply, they were all startled by a few urgent knocks on the door. "At this hour?" mumbled Bethany, looking slightly worried, "Who could it be?"

"Logan?" came the voice of Jowan, a fellow apprentice mage, "Are you awake, Logan?" Immediately, all three mages relaxed and Logan crossed the room and unlocked the door. Upon swinging it open, Jowan walked right in and, with a frantic expression, forced the door shut. He looked pale and flustered—his expression was enough reason for Logan not to yell at him for just barging in without saying a word, so Logan relented and let the trembling mage sit down on the chair before asking him any questions.

"What's wrong, Jowan? You look pale," Bethany commented, her brows creased in deep worry, "Are you sick?"

Jowan shook his head, and wiped the sweat off his brow distractedly. "No, no," he said, "It's much worse than that. The templars… they're going to turn me Tranquil."

"Tranquil? How are you so sure?" Logan asked, moving over beside Jowan, "Who did you hear this from?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Jowan looked up at Logan, his eyes filled with fear. "They haven't called me to take my Harrowing yet, even though all three of you have—and I've been in the Circle longer than any of you. It's obvious they think I'm not good enough… there's only one option left for me—"

"Calm down, Jowan, you don't even know if they're really considering that," Logan said, gripping his friend's shoulders firmly, "You need to breathe."

"I can't," Jowan spluttered, suddenly reaching up to grab Logan by the collar, "If they take away my humanity, they'll take away my feelings for Lily—"

"Whoa, who's Lily?" Garrett cut in, prying Jowan and Logan away from each other.

Logan swore Jowan turned a deep shade of pink as he answered them. "We met a few months ago in the Chantry here and… fell in love. I know she's an initiate and it's forbidden but… We've been happy together ever since, and we thought we could keep this up until I began to suspect that the templars want to turn me Tranquil. I can't live without her," Jowan said, desperation clear in his eyes, "I don't expect you to know what it's like, to lose the woman you love and not being able to do anything about it… but you have to help me. You have to help us!"

"And how do you expect us to do that? You know Chantry initiates aren't allowed to have intimate relationships with anyone," Logan said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Helping you would mean breaking the Chantry law—how are we even supposed to help you, anyway?"

"I know I'm putting you in a spot, but I don't have a choice anymore. I'm going to run away with Lily, but before I do that, I have to destroy my phylactery," Jowan said, burying his head in his hands, "Only I can't do it alone. It's in the basement… where they keep everyone else's phylacteries. You could destroy yours too if you're afraid of being caught—"

Logan waved the suggestion off dismissively with his hand and shot Jowan a grim look. "Ours have already been sent to Denerim. There's no use."

"Then… I mean… you have to help me, Logan!" Jowan pleaded, reaching out to take his friend's hand. "Please… she means the world to me. You'll understand one day, when you find the woman you love—"

"Which is hard, considering how we've been in this tower all our lives and practically know everyone," Garrett said, chuckling, but stopped and cleared his throat when he received a glare from Bethany, tight with warning. "Well, I mean… yeah."

Logan sighed. "I don't know," he said, shaking his head slowly, "Jowan… we…"

"We can help," Bethany cut in, surprising all the three men in the room, "I swear it, Jowan. We'll help you."

"And who made you the boss?" Garrett frowned, scratching his head. "This is dangerous, Bethany. If we get caught—"

"You're the one going off making wild plans of escaping," Bethany said, glowering, "And besides, I'm not the one who suggested jumping off the bandwagon and abandoning Ostagar, Ferelden and the people just so we can go home."

Garrett groaned. "Point taken, little sister," he said defeatedly and, turning to Jowan and Logan, added, "I have to agree with Bethany on this one. What about you, Logan?"

"Fine," Logan said, shrugging, "But only if we leave with them. We'll have to make haste for Denerim the moment we're out of here. Our phylacteries… well, someone's gotta destroy them."

"Excellent," Bethany said, smiling appreciatively at her older cousin, "Now, Jowan, do you have a plan?"

Logan sighed, and exchanged glances with Garrett. This was going to be a long night.


	3. Two

**II**

"The phylactery chamber is located in the repository, in the basement of this tower," Jowan explained, sitting back down on a chair, "I've only been down there once and I could already tell that even though the First Enchanter and Knight-Commander didn't station any templars down there, the repository is magically guarded. Sentinels line the hallways, ready to spring to life the moment they detect an intruder. It won't be easy, but I think we're all good enough to take them down. The problem is the door to the repository—it can't be opened by normal methods, but I've figured it out last night with Lily—we need a rod of fire to melt the locks."

Logan studied Jowan for a moment. "So… _we _have to get this rod of fire," he started, "which would be stored in the stock room."

"Yes, but we can't all go down there," Bethany said, "Wouldn't it be suspicious if four mages and a Chantry initiate went to the stock room and requested for a rod of fire? I think sending just one of us, under the pretence that we need a rod of fire to help us in our research, will be enough."

"Thank you for volunteering, Bethany," Garrett said, beaming. "I knew we could count on you."

The younger Hawke rolled her eyes, but stood up nonetheless. She crossed the room and opened the door, before turning back to face the three men. "The stock room should still be open at this hour," she said, "I'll be back soon. In the meantime, Jowan, tell them everything you know about the repository defenses and how we can best tackle them without making too much noise."

"Right," Jowan said nervously, "Good luck, Bethany. And thank you."

"Don't thank me." The door swung shut behind Bethany as she made her way down the familiar, quiet corridor of this level. There were still a few templars roaming about, most likely waiting for their shift to be over so they can rest in the upper levels where the rest of them are housed, but none of them paid an innocent-looking female mage any attention. It was never publicly admitted, but the templars kept their eyes on the mages that looked stronger, smarter and were bursting with magical potential. It was a convenient stereotype, believing that the more capable a mage is, the more prone he is to succumbing to demon possession and turning into an abomination.

She resented that misconception, but she was in no hurry to correct the templars of their suspicions. There was no use, anyway, because she would be long gone with her brother and cousin by the time dawn arrived.

Bethany descended the steps to the lower level of the tower and found herself in the middle of the ever quiet stock room. She approached the stocks and found the resident Tranquil, Owain, tidying up the place in silence. He never had much to say—but neither did any other Tranquil Bethany had encountered—and it often left Bethany wondering what he was like before he was turned into a lifeless shell of a human being. She felt sorry for him, but it didn't seem to evoke any sense of gratitude from Owain—being Tranquil meant that you were stripped of your emotion, ambition and fear, something that she felt was worse than death.

"Hello, Owain," she greeted the Tranquil with a sweet smile, even though she knew that if she had been rude it wouldn't have had any effect on Owain. "Keeping busy?"

Owain's face remained the same—indifferent, void of emotion and suspicion. He merely turned to her and nodded. "It is my duty to keep the stock room clean and tidy. It makes things easier for the mages who come here to find their desired item for their own purposes. Have you come to do the same?"

"Yes, actually," Bethany said, nodding, "I was looking for a rod of fire."

Owain turned his back to Bethany for a moment, and seemed to check through a list he had been holding the entire time. He turned back and nodded. "There are rods of fire present in the stock room," he told her, and pulled out a piece of parchment and handed it to her, "You cannot, however, retrieve one without the permission of a senior enchanter. Please obtain permission from any senior enchanter in the tower and return to me, and I will give you the rod of fire."

Bethany felt her heart sink. Clearly, this was going to be a long night. "Thank you, Owain," she said, "I'll be back shortly."

"I will be expecting you, then."

She quickly descended the nearby flight of stairs again and entered the main library of the tower. She had always liked the magnificent library, for she loved reading, and found it to be a place of comfort and solace—the only part of the tower she appreciated wholly. She had spent many hours here with Logan—her older brother had never been one for reading or independent studying—poring over books filled with things she had never known before, and had cultivated an undying love for books and learning. As a result, she had ascended to the top of the class every semester, occasionally being overtaken by Logan from time to time, thus making them the senior enchanters' favorites.

She had never expected herself to be grateful for all her hours of studying and practicing, for it now surely meant that getting a rod of fire would be that much easier.

"Ah, Bethany, what brings you to the library at this hour?"

Bethany stopped in her tracks and turned to where the voice had come from, and found that it was Leorah, a senior enchanter that had been the first to take a liking to Bethany, smiling warmly at her brightest pupil. "I was looking for you, actually, Senior Enchanter Leorah," Bethany said, smiling back at her.

Leorah seemed pleased. "Oh?" she said, "What is it that you seek, my dear? A book? A spell you've been having trouble casting?"

"Actually, I was wondering if you could grant me permission to take a rod of fire from the stock room," Bethany said, pulling out the form Owain had given her, "It's for a research project Logan and I have undertaken together, about the effectiveness of magical locks and its weaknesses." She paused. "We were just hoping that if we get something out of this, we could help strengthen the tower's defenses." Bethany couldn't help but notice the irony in this situation, but put on a brave smile nonetheless.

"Oh, that sounds absolutely wonderful of you and Logan," Leorah said, immediately taking the form from Bethany and signing it quickly, "I'll be taking this up to the First Enchanter soon—I can see a bright future with you becoming one of the youngest senior enchanters the Circle has ever had. Keep at it, Bethany!"

Bethany smiled and bowed a little. "Thank you, Senior Enchanter Leorah," she said, "I'll take my leave now. Goodnight."

The moment she was out of the library, her footsteps quickened as she made her way back up to the stock room. She handed Owain the form and, in return, he handed her the rod of fire. "Thank you," she said quickly, before returning to Logan's room, where they were still deep in discussion.

The door slammed shut behind her and she placed the rod of fire on the table. "Here it is," she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"That was quick," Garrett grinned, picking up the object and studying it, "What did you do to get this?"

"Just some noble deeds," Bethany said, but made no move to elaborate. She merely smiled at the thought of how taken in Leorah was by her lie.

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Must be some real convincing work you did that got the senior enchanter to give you permission so quickly."

"Now we can head down to the repository," Jowan said, beaming, "Lily's already waiting for us there."

"This had better work," mumbled Garrett in a low voice to Logan and Bethany, "All he told us was the number of sentinels and _other _possible threats. It's all pretty unnerving, to be honest."

Logan sighed, knowing that Garrett's worries were not unfounded. "You're right, but we'll make it work."

* * *

><p>"What was it you said about making it work?" Garrett hollered, as he avoided the swings of a sentinel wielding a war axe, "Because I think I really need to hear that one more time, Logan!"<p>

"Shut up!" Logan retorted, and sent a fireball towards two sentinels that were charging for him at the same time, "Just duck and fire!"

After a few minutes of dodging slashes that would surely have resulted in a few heads rolling on the ground, they managed to take down the sentinels. Dispatching them was harder than Logan had thought it would be, and he leaned against the wall breathless, trying to regain his energy as quickly as possible. Despite all of Jowan's "experience" in the repository, it hadn't really prepared them for what was coming.

"I didn't know they'd be so… resistant to spells…" Jowan panted, shaking his head.

"Of course they would be," Bethany said, "These things probably weren't put in place by the First Enchanter, though they are enchanted by a mage's hand. It was probably the Knight-Commander, thinking that some of us would break in one day and attempt to destroy our phylacteries."

"Well, he was right," Garrett said, patting his sister on the back, "But we've got to keep moving. Who knows what else this place has in store for us next?"

With Jowan at the lead, they ran down the chilly corridors and found themselves, after a few more encounters with the enchanted guardians of the repository, in front of their destination. Jowan immediately took the rod of fire from Garrett and inserted it carefully into the lock. The rod lit up and burned like the sun for a few seconds, before it reduced itself to a soft, glowing ember as it had originally been. The lock, strangely enough, looked the same as Jowan removed the rod from it.

"So did it work?" Logan asked, frowning. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were now stuck.

Garrett walked forward and pushed the door open, but it wouldn't budge. Instead of swinging open to make way to the repository, the door remained in its place, unaffected by the rod of fire. The older Hawke groaned in frustration and kicked the door. "It's not open," he said, and turned to Jowan, "You said using a rod of fire would work!"

"Please don't blame him," Lily said, wrapping her arm around Jowan protectively, "He tried his best, didn't he?"

"I thought—" Jowan started, but Logan cut him off impatiently. Time, he knew, was running out. Somewhere above them, the templars stand ready to cut down the intruders that had broken into the repository.

"It doesn't matter now," Logan sighed, "The door's still locked. Let's go around and see if we can find an alternative. There's no going back now."

"Logan's right," Bethany said, "No use arguing. The templars have already probably been alerted to our intrusion. We must hurry."

They circled around the repository and eventually found themselves in a room full of strange artifacts and ancient documents. A statue from the Tevinter Imperium had caught Bethany's eye, but they had no time to dawdle and admire the pieces of history kept in this room. Garrett and Logan concentrated on looking for an entrance, as Jowan, Lily and Bethany discussed their options.

Logan knocked the walls of the room until he found a hollow spot in the stone wall. "Listen," he told Garrett, and knocked it again. "It's hollow."

"Then we've found our answer," Garrett said, moving over to the other side of the bookshelf that stood in their way, "On three."

"One."

"Two."

"Three!" The two men pushed and pulled, and eventually got the bookshelf out of the way. Logan dusted himself and stopped in front of the wall that he hoped was the other entrance to the repository—if there even was an alternate entrance.

"All right, now what?" Garrett asked. "Do you think a fireball or two could take it down?"

"I don't think it'll be that easy," Bethany quipped, "Now stand back, both of you."

"Why?" Garrett frowned. "What are you—"

A large jet of fire shot out of the statue Bethany had been tampering with, with the rod of fire lodged into its back, and broke down the wall with a huge explosion. Logan and Garrett fell backward, on top of each other, hearts hammering and ears ringing.

"You could've… warned us!" Garrett groaned, shaking his head as Jowan and Bethany pulled them to their feet.

Bethany shrugged. "We'd have been wasting time," she said, and nodded to the repository beyond the rubble. "Come on."

Locating Jowan's phylactery wasn't hard. It was on one of the lower shelves of the storage chamber, and Logan was the first to find it. "Here it is," he said, calling out to Jowan, "Your phylactery. Maker, I wish our phylacteries were still here."

"I never thought of you as the type who'd want to run away," Jowan said, as he took his phylactery and disposed of it easily. He set fire to its remains and looked quite pleased with himself, until he saw Logan's dark expression.

"I've always hated this place," Logan explained, "Ever since the templars found me."

"As do we," Bethany said, placing a hand on Logan's shoulder and giving him a comforting squeeze, "We'll get out of this place yet, Logan. Let's go."

On their way out, Jowan spoke up again. "I… we thank you, Logan. All of you," he said, looking from Garrett to Logan to Bethany with an appreciative smile, "You don't know how much this means to the both of us."

"Yes," Lily added, beaming, "Our lives will be so much better now, I can feel it."

Garrett smirked. "Say, sister, haven't you taken your vows?"

Lily rolled her eyes and laughed. "No, I haven't," she told him, "I'm just an initiate. They haven't told me to take the vows yet. I'm glad they didn't." She turned to Jowan and took his hand. "I never will."

It took them only a few minutes to backtrack and find the exit. The moment they stepped out of the basement and into the ground level, they found themselves surrounded by templars, Knight-Commander Greagoir and First Enchanter Irving.

"Oh, this can't be good," Garrett muttered, feeling for his staff.

"Thieves," Greagoir said, his voice almost in a sing-song tone. It made Logan sick. It was clear that the Knight-Commander was itching to execute some of the mages in the tower—especially the mages that seemed to be more of a threat to them than others. "I've caught you red-handed, all of you. There is no escape this time."

"This is… a mistake," Garrett said, shrugging, "You've all been mistaken. We were trying to… to take care of the sentinels that had gone out of control—"

"Perhaps because of your intrusion!" Greagoir retorted angrily. "Don't mock my intelligence, boy!"

"Fine, don't say I didn't try," Garrett muttered under his breath, and fell back into silence.

Irving sighed, the sadness evident on his face as he laid his eyes on Logan. "Logan… why would you do this? Why would any of you do this?"

None of them spoke up as Greagoir commanded the templars to bind their hands. Logan, Bethany and Garrett couldn't do much but to let them have their way, but Jowan didn't seem to want to go down without a fight. He broke free from the templars' grasps and lunged forward at Greagoir, snatching his dagger in the process.

"You can't just let them take us like this!" he yelled, looking from Logan to Lily, "We've come so far! I won't let you take us here!"

Before any other templar could apprehend Jowan, the mage sank the blade into his palm and let the blood spill out all over the carpeted floor. Logan's eyes widened in shock as he watched Jowan perform blood magic—something he had never desired to see—and take down the templars with ease. It was a horrific sight, seeing the life drain from the templars' very eyes and seep into Jowan, and Logan was almost thankful for the blinding explosion that came next as Greagoir and Irving moved to stop Jowan.

Then, everything went black.

After what seemed like an eternity, Logan was roughly seized by the collar and jerked awake. "You let a blood mage escape!" Greagoir snarled into his face, his eyes filled with fury, "Not just an apostate, but a blood mage!"

Logan shook his head and tried to stop the ringing in his ears, but failed. He merely groaned and fell to the ground as Greagoir released his iron grip, and could hear the enraged Knight-Commander cursing and swearing out loud.

"Logan… are you all right?" Bethany whispered, reaching out to touch her cousin's face, "How could this have happened?"

"I don't know," Logan whispered back, "But… Jowan…"

"What do we do with the initiate?" asked one of the surviving templars.

This jerked Logan back into full consciousness. He quickly leapt to his feet and turned to Greagoir. "Let her go," Logan said, walking up to him, despite the throbbing pain at the back of his head. "She had no idea he was a blood mage. She's innocent."

"And who gave you the authority—"

"Let the young initiate go," Irving interjected, and nodded to Lily, granting her release. "It is as Logan said. She is innocent."

Lily blinked, the shock still visible on her face. She eventually got up on her feet and walked over to Logan, who was lost in thought of his new future. _Death_, he thought to himself, _that's all that's left for us. _

"Thank you, Logan," Lily said, still blinking back tears, "I'll never forget what you did for… me. And Jowan, but he doesn't deserve your friendship. He lied to us." She brushed the hair away from Logan's face and gave him a kiss before leaving, wishing that she could do something for the man that had saved her life.

Garrett and Bethany had steadied themselves together and walked up to Logan. "So this is it?" Garrett mumbled.

"Seems like it," Bethany said sadly.

Garrett scoffed. "I thought we'd go out with a bang someday. Not like this. Well, there _was _a bang…"

Logan shook his head. "Still got the mood for jokes, Hawke?"

"Always," Garrett smiled wistfully. "I'm just sad we didn't get to see mother one last time. Mother… and Carver."

"And my family," Logan agreed. Looking up, he expected Greagoir to be standing before them with binds, ready to drag them to their punishment. Instead what he had been expecting, Greagoir was nowhere near them now, busy arguing with another person, one Logan had recognized as the Grey Warden, Duncan. Irving was merely standing between both of them mediating, probably trying to prevent Greagoir from lashing out at whatever it is Duncan had suggested. The Knight-Commander looked like he was on the verge of physically attacking the Grey Warden, making it a very curious sight.

Finally, Greagoir stormed off in silence, with the last templar following him closely. Logan frowned as Duncan and Irving approached the three of them—what did _they _have to do with their death sentence?

"It has been decided," Irving said, "Duncan has invoked the Right of Conscription. The three of you are to leave the Circle and become Grey Wardens. It is, I believe, the best solution for you. As wrong as you were for breaking into the repository and destroying a mage's phylactery, I know that you were driven by friendship and loyalty. But I cannot condone your actions. This is… the only way to ensure you live."

"Grey Wardens?" Logan repeated, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. If it meant that he could keep his life, then he would take it.

"Why us?" Bethany asked, looking to Duncan.

The dark-skinned Warden walked up to them and untied their bindings. "Your capabilities are… impossible to ignore," he told them simply, "Well, from what First Enchanter Irving has told me, of course. I came to the Circle looking for recruits, and I have found them."

"Well, I can't say it's a bad thing now," Garrett said, "I mean… we get to keep our lives, right?"

Duncan chuckled. "Yes, you do."

Garrett grinned. "Then count me in."

"You… don't really have a choice, but I'm glad you're willing to join us," Duncan said, smiling.

"You'd take criminals in?" Logan asked. Right now, it certainly didn't seem like they were the ideal candidates any sane person would choose to be protectors of the land against darkspawn. Then again, Duncan might not have been sane at all.

Duncan nodded. "We do not care for the background of any recruit—whether he is a cutpurse or bandit—when we take them into our ranks. What matters is their skill. We will need much of that when facing darkspawn."

"I believe the three of you will make fine Grey Wardens," Irving said, "as much as you would have made fine senior enchanters in the Circle."

Logan couldn't help but give a half-smile. "Thank you, First Enchanter," he said, "Though we haven't really been… well… we don't seem like suitable people to become senior enchanters now, do we?"

Irving sighed, but smiled despite the situation. "You were all meant to do great things," the old man told them, "I suppose I was just hoping it would be here, with us."

"Maybe next time," Garrett said, shrugging, "Well, if there is a next time."

Duncan then told them to stay put as he approached Irving again, discussing something that seemed to be important, leaving Logan some time alone with Garrett and Bethany. While Garrett and Bethany were visibly relieved by this turn of events, Logan was more troubled than ever. If being a Grey Warden meant that they had to dedicate their lives to killing darkspawn and stopping Blights, then what chance did they have now of seeing their families again?

Logan resented fate for pulling them out of one prison only to put them into another, even though it meant that he didn't die tonight. All plans of seeing his family again in Kirkwall were now impossible—it made it hard for him to be appreciative of the fact that he was still alive.

"Come," Duncan said, finally back at their side and motioning for them to follow him, "We have much to discuss before we move out with the mages tomorrow morning."


End file.
